People of the Owl(195)

Wide-eyed, she stared into that grisly visage. Where once Mist Finger’s dark brown eyes had rested, now raw hollows rimmed with torn tissue gaped. Blood caked the skull’s teeth as it gave her a thin grin.

“What can I do, Mist Finger?” she wailed, sagging further toward the cold stone floor.

The voice, lonely, as dismembered as the corpse before her, hissed, “Kill them, Anhinga. Kill them for all of us. It is time! Send our souls some relief. Make them pay … for us!”

Jerking awake, she bolted upright, surprised at the vividness of the Dream. Cool air washed over her sweat-slick skin. Her daughter was crying in the darkness, disturbed by her thrashing.

A Dream! Blessed Panther, only a Dream. She closed her eyes, seeing that blood-smeared skull staring back from her memory. So real, as if Mist Finger’s Dream Soul had been wrapped around hers.

She rubbed a nervous hand over her damp face. Tangles of hair clung to her clammy cheeks.

“It is time, Anhinga,” she whispered to herself. “It is time to do what you came here to do.”

She reached out, feeling the bed where Salamander usually lay. Empty. He was at Pine Drop’s on this night.

Her fingers caressed his bedding, tracing the memory of his face. She could see his worried eyes, sense the tension in the set of his lips. If she tried, she could imagine the beating of his heart.





Fifty

“I think you should be fasting,” Bobcat said to Salamander as he leaned forward and lit the end of his stone pipe with a twig from the fire. The mixture of sumac, sweetgum, and wild cherry leaves left an acrid tang in the air.

The Serpent’s house was new; but the poles, saplings, and vines that supported the roof already had stained to a dark amber color. The place smelled new, having yet to develop that characteristic smoke-flavored stuffiness of an old house. The plaster hadn’t been smudged by greased bodies.

Bobcat leaned back, puffing contentedly, and raised his eyebrows as he studied Salamander. “I don’t know what more to tell you, my friend. Perhaps if the old Serpent had lived? Who knows? He might have known what you could do to prepare yourself.”

Salamander squirmed as he leaned forward on the pole bench. He propped his elbows on his knees and blew through his fingers before saying, “Fasting would do little good.”

“Purification always helps when it comes to the ways of Power.”

“In my case, I don’t need to find a vision. It seems like every time I close my eyes some Spirit Helper is chasing down my Dream Soul to impart advice. Masked Owl wants to lead me away to bliss as I Dance with the One. Many Colored Crow will give me the authority and prestige to save Sun Town from clan violence. He will make us great. That is the choice that looms before me. Enlightenment or fame and glory.”

“Given my calling, Salamander, I would have to choose enlightenment. I can only imagine what the One must be like.” Bobcat shook his head. “Truly, friend. I wonder sometimes if I am not fooling myself and everyone around me by becoming the Serpent.”

“You know how to Sing the cures. You know the plants, Bobcat, and how to conjure their spirits to heal. I’ve been thrilled at the sound of your voice as you Sing the ceremonies.” Salamander paused. “I think being the Serpent is more than losing your souls in the search for the One. Many Colored Crow is right about that. You have a duty here, to do your best for the People.” He chuckled hollowly. “That is the trap, my friend. Do you save yourself? Or do you save others?”

“How can you save others if you do not save yourself first?” Bobcat asked.

“For that, I have no answer.” Salamander rubbed his face. “But if you fall into the One, you will not want to leave it. I’ve touched it, felt its caress at the edges of my soul. It’s …”

“Yes?”

“More wonderful than I can ever tell you.”

Bobcat frowned at the wistful tone in Salamander’s voice. He puffed and exhaled a cloud of blue, thoughtful brown eyes watching the smoke rise. “I would give anything to have even that. Why don’t you just give in to the Dream? Let the rest of us sort this out on our own.”

“I have obligations.”

“Ah, yes, obligations.”

“They are what make us the Sun People, Bobcat. Obligations and responsibilities are what separate us from the animals.” Salamander pulled his hands back, studying the lines in his palms. “Snakes, I recall Mother giving me that lecture the night she sent me up the Bird’s Head. What I would give to be that simple boy again.”

“You could go away, Salamander. Take your wives and travel off to the Twin Circles Camp on the gulf. Or perhaps over to Yellow Mud Camp. We have camps and villages throughout the land for five days’ journey in any direction.”